Another Day - On Compassion Assignment

Another Day.

 It's the end of Autumn, and the days are getting colder. Now's my only chance to enjoy the crisp, spice scented air until the horrid snow of New York settles in for the next few months. As usual, I lounge around the Manhattan streets, observing people as they walk by. I change into a brisk walk  as my left arm has turned into the color of a strawberry from the cold. Blood pumps back into my left arm as my walking speed increases and as I repetitively clench and open my fist.

For some reason, I abruptly stop on the corner of Madison Avenue.  Only five steps away from me lies my deepest desire.

Her angelic face. Her beautiful smile. The warmth of her laugh. The clean smell of her unscathed skin. Her big glassy eyes ever so brilliant speaks of a bright future. A natural, unexplainable feeling surges through my body as I can't help but stare at this perfect female. She notices my eyes and quickly hides her face in a cute manner. Warmth spreads to my face as the long forgotten muscles on my mouth work to generate a smile.

My state of bliss was soon obliterated when the mother passed a dollar bill over the baby toward my way. I stood there, taken aback by the action of the mother. Confused, I didn't know what to do. I surely didn't need the money, I was just adoring her baby. The situation was getting really uncomfortable, as the streetlight already turned, giving the mother her right to walk. She slowly moves and keeps her shaking hand with the dollar bill  my way, her face the other. Not wanting to further discomfort the mother, I quickly take the dollar bill and walk away.

I quickly walk a mile or two and hide myself in an alley way.  Tears uncontrollably roll down my face as I analyze the horrid situation I unknowingly pushed upon the  mother. I look up and see myself in a broken mirror propped up next to a dumpster; ripped long sleeve shirt, holey pants, grease marks, long dreadlocks, worn out shoes, dirt, bags under the irritated eyes, unshaven face. Giant. Male. Black.

I can't help but to curl myself up into a ball and remember all of the things I've lost in my life. My job. My wife. My baby. She would have started kindergarten today.